


Leafy Greens

by ilookedback



Series: Hyggetober Challenge Ficlets [23]
Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Babyfic, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fall Decor, Other, Pumpkin pie, gender neutral reader, hot single dad frankie morales (tm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilookedback/pseuds/ilookedback
Summary: “Honey, I’m—home…” He trails off as the door clicks shut and you shoot the baby a guilty glance across the kitchen. She looks back from her high chair, bouncing with excitement at the sound of her dad’s voice and absolutely, resolutely innocent of responsibility for any of the nonsense he’s just encountered in the living room.You call back a greeting and listen to his footsteps move through the apartment, heading into the bedroom. You knew better than to touch anything in there, but the bathroom was a different story—you hear the water run and then a brief, bemused exclamation, and you wait for Frankie to appear in the kitchen doorway, clad in clean sweats and with freshly washed hands smelling vaguely of pumpkin pie.“Sweetheart,” he says mildly, looking you over, “Did you get body-snatched and replaced by Martha Stewart?”
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/You
Series: Hyggetober Challenge Ficlets [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952407
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Leafy Greens

**Author's Note:**

> For day 23 of my Hyggetober Ficlet Challenge, which is based off of [this prompt list](https://www.instagram.com/p/B201-j7ljdU/?igshid=1pflwcl5260me) and will span several Pedro fandoms. Today's prompt is "autumnal leaves."
> 
> Same universe as [Down to the Roots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871253), [First Star I See](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26981017), [Why Did It Have to Be...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26990689), and [Shine Like the Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27143668).

“Honey, I’m—home…” He trails off as the door clicks shut and you shoot the baby a guilty glance across the kitchen. She looks back from her high chair, bouncing with excitement at the sound of her dad’s voice and absolutely, resolutely innocent of responsibility for any of the nonsense he’s just encountered in the living room.

You call back a greeting and listen to his footsteps move through the apartment, heading into the bedroom. You knew better than to touch anything in there, but the bathroom was a different story—you hear the water run and then a brief, bemused exclamation, and you wait for Frankie to appear in the kitchen doorway, clad in clean sweats and with freshly washed hands smelling vaguely of pumpkin pie.

“Sweetheart,” he says mildly, looking you over, “Did you get body-snatched and replaced by Martha Stewart?”

The baby reaches for him and he plucks her out of her chair, hitching her easily to his chest and offering his cheek for a kiss. She lands a wet smack on his face and he kisses her back and then he looks at you again, still awaiting an explanation.

“I just thought it would be… seasonal,” you offer.

“You realize it’s 80 degrees outside,” he says wryly. “There’s actually a palm tree visible out that window, and you’re wearing shorts. Did you import those leaves in from Canada?” He narrows his eyes dramatically and lowers his voice. “Is that even legal? Are these contraband?”

“They’re imported from Jo-Ann’s,” you tell him. “There was a sale. I might have gone… a _little_ overboard. Do you hate it? I won’t be offended if you want to take it down.”

He laughs and takes a step back toward the doorway so he can take a look at your handiwork again.

“I don’t _hate_ it, I’ve just never had… what do you call those? Garlands?” He waits for your nod. “I’ve never had garlands in my apartment before.”

“So what you’re saying is I’m broadening your horizons,” you say. “Sure, you’ve been to five continents, but now you get to experience the wonders of autumn decor.”

“Sure,” he agrees. Your spin hasn’t really landed but he looks amused in spite of himself and he finally leaves the doorway to join you at the kitchen counter. The baby asks a question—it’s in her own language, just babbling, but she looks at him expectantly and he purses his lips, considering, and then nods.

“I agree,” he tells her. Turning to you, he says, “She feels—and I agree—it’s only fair we get to have actual pumpkin pie for dinner if we’re going to be stuck using pie-flavored soap.”

“Really? You’re sure she didn’t ask for kale salad? Because that’s what I’m making.”

He glances at the bowl full of torn kale on the counter and gives you a skeptical look. “You need to get your ears checked. She clearly said ‘pie.’ Didn’t you, baby? ‘Pie?’”

“Buh!” she says, and he grins triumphantly.

“‘Kale?’” you prompt. She stares at you in silence. Raw leafy greens are still a mystery to her and you suppose that’s fair.

“Nice try,” Frankie says. With his free hand he cups the back of your neck to hold you still so he can grab a kiss. “I’m taking her and we’re gonna get a pie. Do I have time? You need anything else from the store? Iceberg lettuce to replace that kale?”

You shake your head. “Just get some whipping cream, too. Not the stuff in a can. I’ll make it from scratch.”

He gives you a salute and heads out, murmuring to the baby as he slips his shoes back on and grabs his keys, and you take a minute to pop into the living room and flip on the string lights embedded in the faux autumn foliage, just so you can hear his reaction when he gets back.


End file.
